It's the Calming Before the Storm
by euphoricunderworld
Summary: [AU - Human] Dean and Cas had a close moment right before graduation. Four years later, Dean's regretting it and Cas is getting married. [This is ANGST. Prepare yourself.]
1. Graduation

A kid in their class had a rich uncle that was apparently pretty cool. He was allowing the kid – Crowley – to throw a party at his house on the edge of town. There was no one around to call the cops and no one close enough to think anything of how many cars were pulled up. The perfect place to celebrate the graduation they would all be in in two days' time.

Dean listened to the music as he sipped his drink. The fridge was cool behind his back and rocking ever so slightly as it got opened and closed over and over again. People wanted the beer that was practically over flowing inside of it.

A house full of graduating high school kids was loud, so the music was even louder. He could feel bass beats in his chest and guitar screeching through his ears, depending on the song. Currently, it was oddly appropriate since Cas had walked in the room and nodded at him as he reached for a beer in the fridge. "What have I gotten into this time around? I know that I have sworn I'd never trust anyone again, but I didn't have to. You had me at hello."

"Hello, Dean."

They were friends but not too close. Dean tended to hang out with Victor and Cas was always found around Garth and Chuck.

Tonight, Dean had drank just enough that he let his smile get as big as it wanted to when he saw the other boy. Cas, of course, wasn't perfectly aware enough to notice that it was him that Dean was smiling at. He looked over his shoulders before raising his brow at Dean.

The truth was, Dean had always felt a little drawn to Cas. There was something about him that sent electrical pulses down his back. His father wouldn't really approve, but Dean was just rebellious enough that it didn't matter too much to him.

Somehow, they ended up on the back porch, music pulsing behind them and other kids running around them. "It's graduation, man!" Dean was yelling as he stood up, spinning with his beer in hand looking up at the stars.

Cas chuckled. "Yes, it is."

Dean got close to him, bending down so that they were looking into each other's faces. "This is it! We're never going to be able to claim we did things just because we're young again. It's over after tonight." He gave a huge grin. "I wanna do something crazy!"

And somehow progressing from those words to Cas's lips on his wasn't as odd as it could have been. Dean kissed back as soon as he realized what was happening, getting demanding with his tongue.

The beers dropped out of their hands, bubbling yellow liquid spreading over the dirt and concrete beneath them. Dean pulled back and blinked, confused when Cas stood up in front of him. But when he tilted his head back toward the house, he just gave another grin and followed him.

As they walked up the steps, Cas dodged the other people effortlessly, never failing to meet Dean's eyes whenever he looked back. Dean's hands were sweaty and his stomach was in knots, but his heart was beating faster every time those blue eyes met his.

After Cas closed the door behind them, the music got loud enough to hear as all the kids sang along. "Just be pretty but naïve. Anything you hear is what you believe. Let the rhyme get stuck in your head. Wish you had undressed me in your head." The last words were louder than all the others, as if all the kids were excited to say it.

Dean grinned and watched from the bed while Cas walked closer to him. He wasn't perfectly sure that he should be doing this, but at the same time, he really wanted to. It was exciting and new and Cas.

Cas wasn't having the same reservations. He swayed over to Dean and put his hands on his shoulders. The smallest smile was on his face as he passed a leg over Dean's lap. Eventually he was straddling him, and Deans hands were running up his hands and down his legs as they kissed.

It was still exciting and he was almost ready to completely douse the small flame in him that was unprepared for this when the door opened.

Ruby stumbled to a halt just inside the door, causing Crowley to bump into her. "Ah, occupado." She turned to walk out the door. Crowley called over his shoulder that they should have locked the door before the door was shut again.

The lyrics to another song slipped into the silence that was now evident. "I must be running out of luck, cause you're just not drunk enough to fuck. And now I've had it up to here." The words were cold water on his skin, making his fall back into the bed. He covered his face with his hands and shook his head.

Cas seemed to sense what was going on because he stood up. "I'm sorry, Cas."

"It's fine, Dean. I'll see you at the ceremony." He left before Dean could look up, but he thought the tone sounded less fine that it said. Dean shook his head at himself, wondering if this was just going to be a crazy memory ten years from now or if it was going to be a regret that dug at him.

After a few minutes, he stood and fixed his clothes. He was too drunk to contemplate how his mind was going to work years down the road. He did know that he had to make it okay with Cas, though.

He walked down the stairs, searching for the boy with black hair and blue eyes that was probably mad at him. It was fitting that he saw him driving away as the last words to the song that had stopped him played through the air. "I won't hurt you anymore. Where the hell are you when I need you?"

* * *

Songs used here:

You Had Me At Hello - A Day To Remember  
[What have I gotten into this time around? I know that I have sworn I'd never trust anyone again, but I didn't have to. You had me at hello.]

Passion For Publication - Anarbor  
[Just be pretty but naïve. Anything you hear is what you believe. Let the rhyme get stuck in your head. Wish you had undressed me in your head.]

Wake Up - Three Days Grace  
[I must be running out of luck, cause you're just not drunk enough to fuck. And now I've had it up to here.]  
[I won't hurt you anymore. Where the hell are you when I need you?]


	2. Four Years Later

His dad had been dead for two years when Dean found himself tucked into a corner of the Roadhouse. He was three whiskey's in when he was approached by a man with a dark hat. He had a beard with just a touch of grey or blond and big blue eyes. When he spoke, it was with a southern twang that gave Dean enough amusement to smile at him.

"What are you doin' alone in a bar on a Friday night?" He parked himself right next to Dean, and propped himself on the bar so he could drink and still see him.

Dean smiled and drank the last of his whiskey.

"You shouldn't be alone." He didn't seem to mind that Dean wasn't speaking, filling the silence with flirting glances and words. "I can keep you company, if you want."

It was on the tip of his tongue to turn him down. It's fine, Dean. I'll see you at the ceremony. The words had haunted him from the moment he woke up with his first real hangover the day before graduation. Every hangover since, as well. Sometimes, the words played in his head when he was picking up a woman at this bar.

Sleeping with another man wasn't going to fix that mistake. Dean knew that. However, he felt like it could help him put it behind him. So, he leaned closer to the man that wore dark clothes and smelled like cigarette smoke and the outside. He flirted back and followed him home.

He didn't regret it until he woke up in his own bed, body covered in bite marks and bruises, replaying the last words Cas ever really said to him. It wasn't even sleeping with Benny that had cut into him. It was realizing that it could have been Cas and it could have been four years ago. The fact that it wasn't made his stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol still playing in his system.

He brushed his teeth, the barest hint of a song playing in the back of his head. When it became clear what it was, Dean felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He remembered voices raised to scream it defiantly into the night as Cas's lips were crushed into his and his spilled beer was scenting the air around him. "Tonight, we are young. So let's set the world on fire. We can burn brighter than the sun."

He really didn't want to be thinking about one of his biggest fuck-ups in the wake of one of his greatest achievements. He'd finally bucked the self-hatred his father had forced into him enough to do something he'd wanted to do for as long as he could remember. He should be celebrating, not mourning a lost opportunity.

There really wasn't anything to do about it right now, though. So Dean just pushed it as far back in his head as he could make it go and then moved on with his weekend.

Tuesday found him rushing to get the oil off his hands so that he could shake the hand of the customer that was currently rolling up. It was a new silver car, but it looked like every other car on the road these days, so Dean would have to get under the hood to tell which one it was.

He wasn't on the job for a week before he had discovered that he thought it was really awkward for him or Bobby to stare at the people as they got out of their cars. So, he busied himself with his paperwork as he heard a car door slam. "Dean?" A deep voice pulled him up.

His mind stopped. Dean couldn't do anything but blink as a dark haired, blue eyed man in dress slacks stood before him. His face was rougher than it had been, stubble running across his jaw. His hair was slightly more tamed than it had been, but it was easy for him to recognize Cas in this man. "Cas?"

For a moment, he thought things were going to somehow turn into a chick-flick. Boy screwed up with boy, boy makes it up to boy, boys live happily ever after.

Then she walked up beside him.

Dark jeans and a leather jacket over a purple shirt fit her perfectly. Her brown hair was waving down her shoulders. It was her eyes that really got to him, though. They really weren't that special, just big and brown. It was the way they were looking at Cas. They were fond and protective and loving and Cas smiled back at her and Dean felt his stomach drop.

Dean kept his smile on, though. It was a little hard when she tucked her right hand into Cas's back pocket and ran her left through her hair. A sparkly ring was all he had time to notice before he got a little dizzy. Thankfully, the lovebirds didn't notice. He couldn't help but speak the word spitefully in his mind.

He didn't know where the hell he had come up with the animosity. He hadn't seen the guy in four years and the last time that had any meaning had been when he stopped them from sleeping together. He didn't really have a right to the jealousy that was playing in his chest.

A new song started on the radio, and Dean wondered if the universe was just fucking with him. "Tossed by the tempest of life, a victim of storms I contrive. I feel like the best is behind and I can't go back." He flicked the switch to shut the thing off before he could force himself to smile again. "Who's this?"

Cas beamed at him. "This is Meg, my fiancée. We're getting married in a few months." Dean fought to keep his smile on his face, and managed only barely. "My bachelor party is this weekend. You should come."

Dean just smiled while waiting for his heart to stop shaking. Cas programmed his number into his phone while Dean ducked under the hood. He didn't remember what stupid problem brought them in; he just remembered that he'd agreed to show up to a party to celebrate Cas's impending marriage.

* * *

Songs used here:

We Are Young - Fun ft. Janelle Monae  
[Tonight, we are young. So let's set the world on fire. We can burn brighter than the sun.]

Let Me Die - The Classic Crime  
[Tossed by the tempest of life, a victim of storms I contrive. I feel like the best is behind and I can't go back.]


	3. Regrets

Dean remembers the strip club from his twenty first birthday. He'd gotten a lap dance from a girl named Chastity before getting puking drunk. If he remembered correctly, the dumpster was placed uncomfortably close to the door all the dancers left out of.

The embarrassment he vaguely remembered from puking his guts out in front of beautiful women was small in comparison to what he felt now. There was embarrassment. Cas had obviously thought nothing about that night since then and had moved on. But here was Dean, unable to talk about it but still dwelling.

There was shame, too, though. He was apparently in love with a guy he hadn't seen in four years. And here he was, standing next to his cousins as they all prepared to celebrate his marriage. Gabriel had mentioned that Meg had gotten Cas into some trouble because she was a wild woman. But even Dean could tell that she was completely in love with Cas. And honestly, that was what he deserved. He deserved someone that never told him no and that would make him happy.

Dean wasn't a nice enough person to do it himself. But he was just nice enough to not ask for a chance, too.

Even Sam had been invited to the club. The big moose was looking around, excited if intimidated, seated next to Cas's cousins Balthazar and Gabriel. The whole Novak clan was oddly named, but no one batted an eye in Lawrence anymore. They were there for fifteen minutes before the man of the hour walked in.

He was wearing black jeans and a black t shirt and Dean was violently reminded of the night before graduation. It had been dark blue jeans then, but the lighting in that house had been just shady enough that he hadn't known until they were in that room.

Dean gave the obligatory congratulations and hug before he sat down next to Sam. They watched girls dance for a while before it became apparent that Cas hadn't changed that much from high school. He wouldn't watch the dancers once they had most of their clothes off, instead choosing to inspect his drink.

He softened. "I'm gonna go get another drink. Wanna come?" He popped his head back toward the door and Cas gratefully nodded.  
Once there, Dean sat. "You don't look too happy with the venue."

Cas shrugged. "Gabriel chose. He said that if I would be bound in matrimony soon, the ladies here had to have a chance at me first."

He laughed. "You're not the type to try to get one off before monogamy."

The other man gave a smile. Dean was about to say something – an apology for stopping things or a regret for not going through with it - when the lights went down real low. Chords of a song that he knew he'd always remember played on the stage as a blonde woman came out, dressed in a sexy punk kind of way. "It's the calming before the storm, alcohol sits nicely in your stomach warm."

His stomach was rioting against his ribs and his heart had surely stopped beating. He stared at the back of Cas's neck as the other man watched her dance her way through the song. When it came up, Dean could do nothing but sing under his breath. "Anything you hear is what you believe. Let the rhyme get stuck in your head, wish you had undressed me in your bed."

He must have been mistaken when he thought that Cas's shoulders had tensed.

They sat down with the other three after that. They avoided looking at each other the rest of the night as Dean slammed drink after drink.

Eventually, Balthazar took pity on him and brought him home. He stumbled into his apartment, drunk with the song that had been playing in his car stuck in his head. He sang it as he pulled his clothes off and tumbled into his bed. "So now I am owed this: one self-indulgent tirade, a hollow attempt to sell my point of view. Yeah, I know what's rotting beneath your best intentions. At the heart of your convictions sits a broken man that needs to understand."

He didn't remember falling asleep and he spent twenty minutes searching for his phone. He thought that it was in his pants pocket that were in the living room, but when he looked for them, he found them in his bedroom. And his phone was tangled up in the blankets.  
He plugged it into the charger before he noticed that black smiley face speech bubble. When he pulled it up, he was confused. It was a text from Cas, just reading 'You're just not drunk enough to fuck.' He looked back through the texts and right between that text and the one telling him where to meet them was one from himself. 'Wish you had undressed me in your bed.'

"Fuck." When the hell had he decided it would be a good idea to bring that up? He couldn't do that to the guy. His fucking wedding was in two months.

The hangover was awful, but he got through it the way his dad used to. He kept drinking through the day. He didn't remember eating, but he remembered throwing up all sorts of liquor and beer a few times through the day.

He talked himself into anger and out of it three different times before he gave into himself. He didn't know why he wanted to text him back so badly, but he couldn't fight it after the fourth time getting sick.

His fingers were thick and unresponsive, but he pressed through until he had a coherent message. "You're impossible to love or leave. So impossible to win or please. I'm wearing you out, just wearing you out. But I'm wearing you down?"

Sunday brought him a worse hangover and no response. So he was careful to eat while he drank. He only threw up once. He confined himself to one more text since he'd have to be a semi responsible adult in the morning. "You taste like Heaven, but God knows you're built for sin."

* * *

Songs used here:

Passion for Publication - Anarbor  
[It's the calming before the storm, alcohol sits nicely in your stomach warm.]  
[Anything you hear is what you believe. Let the rhyme get stuck in your head, wish you had undressed me in your bed.]

This is All Now - Taking Back Sunday  
[So now I am owed: one self-indulgent tirade, a hollow attempt to sell my point of view. Yeah, I know what's rotting beneath your best intentions. At the heart of your convictions sits a broken man that needs to understand.]

Wake Up - Three Days Grace  
[You're just not drunk enough to fuck.]

Impossible - Anberlin  
[You're impossible to love or leave. So impossible to win or please. I'm wearing you out, just wearing you out. But I'm wearing you down.]

Built for Sin - Framing Hanley  
[You taste like Heaven, but God knows you're built for sin.]


	4. Saturday Afternoon

The clock read noon when Dean finally forced his gummy eyes open. His head was pounding and his tongue felt swollen and gross. For a moment, dark humor rolled through him. He had grown up seeing his father slowly killing himself with his drinking before it caught up with him in a flaming wreck. Now here he was, drinking the same way over a boy he kissed for years ago.

If it weren't so pathetic he might laugh at the irony. He did laugh, and if it was humorless, he was the only one to hear. He was twenty two and already contemplating the end of his life. It was almost hilarious the levels of pathetic he had managed to achieve.

Speaking of pathetic, Dean pulled his phone out. He wondered exactly what his drunken mind over the last week had texted to Cas.

Me: I'm living but weak. I'm hearing voices from shadows inside me. I never sleep. My eyes are too focused, too hopeless, too open to notice – interfering with the call of fate is crawling out of you and now… find comfort in the smallest spaces.  
Sent: April 3

Me: And we were in flames, I needed – I needed you to run through my veins – like disease – disease. And now we are strange, strangers.  
Sent: April 4

Me: So where the hell's my hope, and why can't I just try? You know I've lost a lot, but I won't let this die.  
Sent: April 5

Me: I think I should be a little more confident in myself, in my skin. Take me – take me home. Take me – take me home, cause I don't stand a chance in these four walls.  
Sent: April 6

Me: Another game of charades. Don't you know everybody plays? I don't want to lose to you that way. Maybe we'll be different this time around. Maybe we'll be different. I don't know.  
Sent: 12:46AM

It didn't take long for him to grow bored with wallowing in his bed. He force himself to drink a whole glass of water and swallow some aspirin before jumping in the shower. Dean felt lightheaded in the moist heat afterwards, but he trudged through it.

By the time he sat down to eat the omelet he had cooked for himself – with a glass of whiskey on the side – it was two in the afternoon. The omelet was half gone and the whiskey had been refilled when there was a knock on the door.

Dean took a second to glare at it before he walked over. When he opened the door – because he's stupid and never used the peephole and would probably be murdered someday because of it – he swallowed.

Cas was standing at the door, a look of annoyance on his features. He pushed his way past Dean without and invitation and stood in the living room. Dean tried to see it the way he would and took in the details.

There were empty whiskey bottles near the couch and on the counter. A pillow and a crumpled sheet were on the couch from the nights he'd let himself get too drunk to get to bed. It smelled like stale air and eggs, which was better than it could have been.

He didn't want to feel ashamed, but he felt heat rush to his face. Almost without thinking, he began to throw away the bottles and wash his egg pan. He didn't bother to hide the whiskey he sipped.

Cas took it all in silently, never taking his eyes off of Dean. He refused to feel bad about wearing pajama pants and a tee shirt. He was in his own home on a weekend. It didn't matter if Cas always looked immaculate.

Finally, when Dean was sitting at the table, whiskey in hand and his mind wandering to where he had put the cigarettes from last weekend, Cas spoke. "I need you to stop texting me, Dean."

He didn't know what to say to that. The truth was that he had tried. He didn't want to seem so desperate. The state of his apartment and the bloodshot eyes he knew he was sporting only solidified the impression. He couldn't very well explain that to the other man without sounding even worse, though.

His silence must not have been the best choice, because Cas ran his hand through his hair and down the side of his face. The gesture was familiar and made Dean glance away only to look back again when he continued. Dean almost thought he might not have noticed the silence.

"You had your chance and you lost it. I was practically in love with you in high school." Dean looked him in the eyes in surprise and clenched his jaw. "Do you really think I only kissed you because you wanted to do something crazy?" Cas only gave an empty half smile. "God, Dean. It was you inviting me to do what I had wanted to do since I was fifteen."

Dean licked his lips before he could speak. "I was scared, Cas. That's why I stopped it. I regret it." He shook his head and looked at the tabletop because those laser eyes were starting to get to him. "I really regret it."

When he looked up, Cas was staring at him, his jaw clenched. He watched the darker man take one, two, three breaths before he made an effort to drop his tensed shoulders. "You've made that clear. Maybe if you had realized that two years ago…" His voice stopped and he shook his head. "I'm getting married in June, Dean. To Meg."

He knew it would just be torture, but when Cas started walking toward the door, Dean called out to him. Because he was selfish and demanded the things he wasn't given, he asked for a kiss. "One kiss and I leave you alone, Cas. Is that so bad?"

He looked ready to just duck out the door. Maybe he realized that he would get text messages every day, though. Maybe he wanted to kiss Dean as much as Dean wanted him to, though he wouldn't bet on it.

Those dream-blue eyes were suddenly looking into his. They were hard as steel as Cas walked closer and pulled Dean to him, his nails biting into his neck.

The unexpected pain of it made Dean deepen the kiss and make it more aggressive than he'd meant it to be. He bit into Cas' lip and couldn't help the growl that escaped when he gasped. He pushed the smaller man back unti he hit the wall and pinned him there with his kiss and his hands crushed to his hips.

One of Cas's hands was pulling him closer with a grip in his hair, the other had pulled up his shirt and was digging into his ribs. He heard his name groaned into his mouth.

His finger had slipped beneath the sweater he wore and touched his hip when Cas shoved him back. Dean was painfully aware of his body – his pajama pants were far more restrictive than they had been before and his heart was hammering in his chest and his lips tingled and burned.

"I am getting married." Dean couldn't tell if he sounded happy about it. If he could have, he would have known what to do. He didn't, though, so he clenched his jaw and stood far enough away that he wasn't touching but close enough to feel his heat across his skin.

After a few seconds, his head cleared enough for him to speak. Cas looked out of it, so someone had to do something. "So leave." He didn't want him to, but Dean would do as he said. He'd gotten his kiss, even if all it had done was set his body to boiling. If Cas walked away, Dean would let him go and leave him alone.

Cas looked tortured, his eyes sad. He wanted to look away; he didn't want to see this. He could barely live with his own problems; it wasn't fair for Cas to be here and looking so broken. But, just like before, there was something about Cas that pulled him. He kept looking until the other man looked down and shook his head. When he looked up, Dean couldn't read the look on his face.

* * *

Songs used here:

This Time It's Different - Evans Blue  
[I'm living but weak. I'm hearing voices from shadows inside me. I never sleep. My eyes are too focused, too hopeless, too open to notice – interfering with the call of fate is crawling out of you and now… find comfort in the smallest spaces.]

Winter - Daughter  
[And we were in flames, I needed – I needed you to run through my veins – like disease – disease. And now we are strange, strangers.]

The Permanent Rain - Dangerous Summer  
So where the hell's my hope, and why can't I just try? You know I've lost a lot, but I won't let this die. So where the hell's my hope, and why can't I just try? You know I've lost a lot, but I won't let this die.]

Ready When You Are - Trapt  
[Another game of charades. Don't you know everybody plays? I don't want to lose to you that way. Maybe we'll be different this time around. Maybe we'll be different. I don't know. ]


	5. Saturday Afternoon Part 2

Dean turned away before he could do something stupid – like kiss Cas again. He knew that if he did, he wouldn't stop this time.

He only got halfway around before a hand was fisted in his shirt and pulling him back. He only had time to wonder what the hell was going on before warm lips were once again on his.

There was a tenderness to it that hadn't been there before, though there was still a bitter edge of anger in the violence. It was the most confused and exhilarating kiss he had ever had and he knew that he had been right. He wasn't going to be able to stop this.  
Dean kept his lips soft as his hands ripped at Cas's sweater, barely separating long enough to get it over his head. As Dean kissed his way down his neck, Cas worked his shirt over his shoulders. When his head was free again, he bit down on Cas's collar bone, reveling in the cinnamon scent and the hissing groan it released.

"No marks."

The words were spoken softly, like an apology. It made Dean angry, but he respected the words.

He didn't know why he had thought that this must mean there was no reason to hide. Seeing a friend from high school that he had almost slept with wasn't quite enough to stop Cas's wedding. Dean knew the words meant to leave no evidence for Meg to see. The bitter angry part of him wanted to leave marks out of spite.

The part of him that he thought might just be in love with Cas wanted to do whatever he asked just for a chance to keep touching him.

It took more self-control than he had thought he'd have, but he managed to pull his teeth from his skin and go back to light kisses as he kept his jaw clenched.

Cas's hands were running across his shoulders and back. He seemed to be on the same page because he started tugging the pajama pants lower on Dean's hips as Dean undid the button of his jeans. He only got the zipper down halfway before his hand stopped him.

He prayed Cas hadn't suddenly remembered why they shouldn't be doing this. The worry was laid to rest when Cas spoke. "I want to see you first."

Dean looked at him. He had leaned his head back against the wall and looked at Dean with heavy-lidded eyes. His breathing was heavy, drawing Dean's eyes to his chest. The muscles were lean and threaded down to narrow hips, thrust out a bit with just a hint of bone.

There was something vulnerable about being the first to be naked and maybe Cas was trying to avoid it. Maybe he wanted to take revenge on Dean for that night. Dean was self-concious and wishing for less afternoon sunlight pouring in his third floor window. But he had spent enough years regretting not following through, so he pushed his pajama pants down and stepped out of them before spreading his arms. Here I am, the gesture said, look at me.

Cas looked, seemingly drawn into Dean's body. He knew that if he cared to work out harder –or drink less – it could be nicer, but it wasn't bad. There was muscle tone without sagging skin, though freckles played across his shoulders and back. He'd never thought he was horrible looking, but he hadn't ever really thought he was something spectacular to look at, either. He wasn't sure that Cas would agree.

Thankfully, before he could start feeling too self-concious, Cas pushed himself off the wall and started stepping closer. Dean wasn't sure when he had taken his shoes off, but they weren't there when he watched Cas drop his jeans and boxers.

All he was really paying attention to was that Cas was finally coming toward him and he wasn't going to say no this time.

Dean legs were shaking as he leaned against the wall. There were some stains he was going to have to get out of his carpet, now, but he didn't regret a second of it. He wasn't so sure about Cas, though.

Cas was jerking on his clothes, his skin still flushed and sweat drying between his shoulders. He watched him without saying anything, because he didn't know what to say. Nothing that could come out of his mouth right now would make this situation make any more sense.

Dean even understood that he might need time. He had just cheated on the woman he was going to marry. He wondered if this was the end of everything, though.

Cas stopped for a second with his hand on the doorknob, then opened it without saying anything. Just before he walked out the door, he spoke softly without turning around. "This should not have happened." He just nodded, even if he couldn't see him. There was nothing else to say.

Dean waited for him to leave then locked the door and made his way to the bathroom. He turned the radio on and sunk to the floor, letting the reverberating sounds make him feel something because he was far too confused to figure himself out.

"You can't, you can't forgive yourself. I don't blame you. At times I can't tell who you are anymore, or if I ever even knew you. What exactly do you want to hear? Yeah, what exactly are we doing here? Your indecision makes a slow incision, cuts what little we have left. It doesn't feel a thing like falling. I can't feel a thing as I watch you move in then out the door."

The lyrics worked their way into his head and he laughed. They were so fitting. He didn't know what he felt, he didn't know what he should feel. He wondered if he was going to be able to forget about Cas, but he wondered if the feel of his skin was going to become his new whiskey. He did know that he'd gotten more than he bargained for. He'd asked for a kiss and Cas had paid that with interest. He couldn't text him anymore.

* * *

It Doesn't Feel A Thing Like Falling - Taking Back Sunday


	6. Violence

He woke up, body stiff in more ways than one. His dreams had been taken over five nights of seven with memories of Cas. Sometimes it was the way he had been in high school, completely confidant in himself and ready to face the world. Sometimes it was just his skin beneath his lips and cinnamon in his nose. Sometimes, like last night, it was more visceral.

Dean could still almost taste the warm thickness of Cas before he was pulled away, kissing him while his hand brought Dean over the edge. He remembered dropping to his knees – before some internal clock woke him.

He was forty five minutes behind schedule, which meant he only had ten minutes to get ready for work. Dean had planned to get his mail before work today, since he'd ignored it for the last few days. Hopefully, he'd remember when he came home since he didn't even have time for a shower, only rinsing his mouth with mouthwash before bolting out the door with his boots untied.

Waking up late set the tone for the rest of the day. He tripped over his boot laces and knocked over a motor oil display when he rushed in to punch the clock. He ended up not eating lunch because he forgot this wallet and refused to let anyone else buy it. Fifteen minutes before his shift was over, he gave himself a three inch gash on his left forearm that probably should have gotten stiches.

It wasn't a good day.

By the time he went home, Dean wanted nothing more than to sit on his couch with a drink and watch mindless television. Only knowing he probably had at least one bill in the mail had him sticking his key in the tiny lock.

The late June heat had apparently fried his air conditioner because it hadn't worked in two weeks. His apartment was sweltering and smelled like overly ripe trash. He groaned and slammed the mail on the table to bring it out to the dumpster.

When he was back in the apartment, he debated not looking in the mail at all, certain that with the way his day had been going there would be something terrible in there. Maybe a chick he barely remembered was asking him for a paternity test. Maybe they had discovered that he had cancer, though he didn't think they'd send a letter for that. He also hadn't been to the doctor in a year or two, so they probably wouldn't know anyway.

He showered and pulled on a pair of basketball shorts that he only kept around for the summer when he wanted to be cool but not naked. His laptop got turned on and he pulled up music. A whiskey was poured, though it was more for the taste than anything else. It had been a while since he had drank so heavily that it was important like water to him. Two months, actually.

There was only so much stalling he could do before he saw how much was going to be coming out of his savings account this month. A playlist came up on his laptop, an angry one he had made in high school, directed at everything from his homework to his dad to his confusion over his sexuality. It actually made him chuckle as he saw his electricity bill. He'd finally come to the point in his life that he didn't care what the label on his sexuality was, as long as it didn't make it less possible to sleep with someone that he thought was hot.

Three bills were actually in the mail. Electricity, heating, and cell phone. Each of them was about what he had expected, so he turned to the other things. Junk mail and flyers mostly.

The playlist had just kicked over to a song he had been practically obsessed with in high school. Dean sang along under his breath as he finished up with the mail. "We danced along to the violence, not scared of anyone. And they won't complain as long as we can explain exactly – what have we done? You see these walls, they won't kill that beast in your heart, or deep in your soul. I wanna know if it's just an opinion or lust. Why do we lose control?"

A white envelope was on the bottom. It looked about the same size as the ones that he got birthday cards in. His birthday was in January, so he knew that wasn't what it was. His name was written in very round letters; it was handwriting he didn't recognize, so he turned it over.

On the back, the same round letters had written a return address. The address didn't matter, but the names had him blinking in confusion. "Castiel and Megan Novak". Why would they be sending him anything? Why would Cas want to send him anything? It didn't match up with the feeling of their last parting.

He almost wondered if he was getting a formal request to back the fuck up as his inexplicably shaky fingers ripped the envelope open.

A glossy black and white photo met his eyes. It was a wedding picture. Meg was smiling into Cas's eyes as he dipped her on the dance floor, his smile big and genuine. They looked really happy.

For a moment, he stared at it. What was he supposed to do with it? Which of them had decided to send it to him? Either way, it could mean things were really bad.

If Cas sent it, he was saying that he was happy and married and wanted nothing more to do with Dean.

The handwriting had been Meg's, though, since it certainly wasn't Cas's. Dean would know that scraggly chicken scratch anywhere. So maybe it had been her idea to send it. Was it because Dean and Cas were friends? Or was it because she knew what had happened and was claiming Cas for her own?

Eventually, as the guitar screamed from the speakers, Dean felt rage. He threw his half empty glass of whiskey against the wall, the shards falling in counterpoint to the music. When he stood, he shoved the table away from him, causing it to tip and fall over. He picked up his bottle of whiskey and drank half of it, not breathing until the burn in his chest felt as if he was going to die. Maybe it was the alcohol, but it could have been the anger.

Who the hell did Cas think he was? How could he do this to Dean? He saw how fucked up Dean had been. He was the one that had continued things. He could have walked out like he planned, Dean was going to let him. He didn't, though, and now he was trying to screw him up even more?

Dean lay waste to his apartment, breaking things and punching the walls and doors. The mirror was cracked as he let the music into him. It was the only thing that he'd ever let get so close.

"My only option is gone. Smile as they break and they fall. You want a simpler life; you can't erase what was mine."

* * *

We Did Nothing Wrong – Royal Bliss  
[We danced along to the violence, not scared of anyone. And they won't complain as long as we can explain exactly – what have we done? You see these walls, they won't kill that beast in your heart, or deep in your soul. I wanna know if it's just an opinion or lust. Why do we lose control?]

Simple Design – Breaking Benjamin  
[My only option is gone. Smile as they break and they fall. You want a simpler life; you can't erase what was mine.]


	7. A Text

Dean felt like shit when he woke up, but he wasn't hung over. He was pissed at himself for getting so angry. Cas hadn't made any promises to him. He had acted like a spoiled child told no for the first time, and that was on him.

It was Thursday, and he knew he shouldn't, but he called in. The idea of having to deal with all the joking and questions that was working with a bunch of guys at an auto shop was just too much for him to deal with at the moment. So he pleaded sick and lay in bed for another hour unable to sleep before he resigned himself to his day.

A shower and breakfast only improved his outlook a little bit.

He had never been a big cleaner. He liked things neat, but he mostly only maintained it by not having a lot of crap. His raging last night had managed to break almost every bit of aforementioned crap in the apartment.

After stepping on three separate pieces of broken glass, he pulled on his boots and started painstakingly taking care of it all, music playing in the background.

Dean was pulling a sliver out of his finger as he walked back into his apartment. One of his three chairs had been busted beyond repair, so he'd brought it down to the dumpster. Damn thing apparently didn't appreciate being thrown away. The door had shut behind him when his phone went off.

Once the sliver was satisfactorily taken care of, he snagged his phone and opened the text before his mind processed what his eyes had seen.

Cas had sent him a text.

**Cas: **It will be the death of me before I let you get the best of me.  
Received: 2:47PM

He laughed, the sound loud and humorless before cracking and getting too close to a sob. It was just his luck that he'd drink all of his alcohol and then Cas would go and make him need more.

Dean decided that there was no way he could decode that text, so he ignored his phone, leaving it resting on his kitchen table. He was aware of it, though, no matter how long he stared at TV shows he couldn't recall three seconds into commercials. He stopped himself from thinking about the text, but his brain wouldn't think of anything else, so he just started at pixels on a screen until they lost meaning and he finally dragged himself to bed at midnight.

The text haunted him. He kept questioning it. What did it mean? Did Dean somehow have this previously undiscovered ability to get the best of Cas? Was Cas saying that everything was over? Dean hadn't thought that there was much of a chance that things were even started, but the idea that it was over was enough to set his stomach to roiling.

Three in the morning found Dean in his underwear, smoking cigarettes that he dropped into an empty pop can while reruns played on the TV. Liberal applications of caffeine and nicotine took him the rest of the day through work until he could take a two hour nap.

Then he was at the Roadhouse, ready and willing to embrace any forgetting the place had to give out.

His eyes caught on a woman at the end of the bar. Her name was Lisa and she was alone because her friends had already paired off. She didn't want to bring a man home because she had a two year old son there that she didn't want to wake up to a stranger.

They had sex in his bed, though neither seemed too impressed. She had no trouble leaving afterwards and he didn't bother to get her number. He just poured himself a drink and had it half gone before he realized that the sweet, floral scent that clung to his skin was making it hard to forget and he didn't know why.

A shower and the clean scent of soap went a little way to making him feel better. Another glass of whiskey had him even further.

The bottle was half-empty by the time he realized Cas had the power to get the best of him.

Lisa hadn't been gone an hour before he'd obliterated the scent of her on him. Dean had only convinced himself into the shower the day after Dean had left, when he knew that any cinnamon he still smelled was a product of a neighbors cooking and he really just smelled like sweat and stale sex and it really wasn't attractive.

What was so fucking special about Cas?

In high school, he'd been calm and centered. Sometimes he took things too seriously, but most of the time he was willing to admit if he had made a mistake.

The first time Dean had noticed him as more than just a nerdy kid was sophomore year. It was that most awkward of high school years, some kids stuck halfway in puberty and others out. Boys were tall and gangly and pimply with cracking voices.

Cas hadn't been, though.

There was an unfinished quality to his body, but it was only there if you looked really close. Mostly he was graceful limbs and a deep voice and a smile that had threatened to trip Dean.

Dean didn't realize that he was looking at Cas like he usually looked at girls until he'd gotten one of those random boners he was plagued with. It wasn't the first one that had tipped him off, or even the third. It'd happened for two weeks before Dean realized he hadn't been subconsciously thinking of a woman, but Cas. He'd been thinking of Cas, a guy he only sort of knew, touching him and…

His dad would have kicked his ass, though. So Dean didn't act on it and only sometimes fantasized about it – when no one was home and he knew he didn't have to deal with seeing his dad and wondering if he could tell if he'd just jerked it to thoughts of a blue eyed, leggy boy with lips that looked soft and skin that was…

Senior year he'd been smoking behind the back fence, keeping an eye out for teachers. Cas had sidled up next to him without him noticing, causing him to start and suck too much smoke into his lungs. While he hacked and tears gathered in his eyes, Cas had given a chuckle. "I did not intend to scare you, Dean."

"What the hell were you doing, then?" He'd asked when his voice had finally felt less like fire.

"I wanted a cigarette." Cas had said it so calmly, as if it wasn't the weirdest thing ever for the best behaved kid in school to break the rules a month and a half before graduation. But Dean had always been a sucker for women that broke the rules and apparently for boys too. He'd handed Cas a cigarette and had felt blood rush through his body when he lit it and pulled a drag in without flinching.

He'd made his excuses and gone back to class, but he'd been aware of Cas every day right up until that night before graduation.

Dean had thought through all the reasons Cas was enough to break him. All the reasons he was amazing and that Dean really wanted him with him. And he pulled out his phone and he sent a text to the man in question.

**Me: **Don't point the blame when you can't find nothing. Look to yourself and you might find something. It's time that we sorted out all of the things we complain about.

* * *

Where the Wild Things Are – Anorbor  
[It will be the death of me before I let you get the best of me.]

Roger Rabbit - Sleeping With Sirens  
[Don't point the blame when you can't find nothing. Look to yourself and you might find something. It's time that we sorted out all of the things we complain about.]


	8. August

**Cas:** So let me get this straight, you say now you loved me all along? What made you hesitate to tell me with words what you really feel? I can see it in your eyes, you mean all of what you say. I remember so long ago, see I felt that same way.  
Received: July 4

Dean almost choked on his burger. He had given up on getting a text back a few days before, because a week was far too much time to wait.

**Me:** Tell me that you're better and you'd rather just forget that things have got so far.  
Sent: July 15

He'd agonized over the words to say, listening to music every second he wasn't tucked into bed and trying to sleep. Finally, drinking and feeling a little angry, he'd found the perfect words.

**Cas:** Yeah, go ahead and take your cheap shots. I've never been too proud to sin, why don't you rub my face in it?  
Received: July 16

The words made him feel a little ashamed of his chosen words the day before.

**Me:** I've scribbled out my view on faith, on waiting until timing's right. I've sat and pondered on this for days and days and nights and nights.  
Sent: August 3

Dean couldn't get Cas out of his head. He was in every thought. Every dream had something about him to it, making him wonder how he'd ever thought that Cas wasn't special.

He had to keep himself from begging for Cas to come back.

**Cas:** Oh, how can we know? You and I both know. So let's make this boatload of excuses burn and sing.  
Received: August 5

There were a million ways Dean could take that text. He pulled himself together before he chose the wrong one.

**Me:** Go on, just say it. You need me like a bad habit.  
Sent: August 6

He wanted him to. He wanted Cas to be just as twisted over him as Dean was.

**Cas:** You can paint the picture pretty, but it serves as no disguise. It's only getting later now.  
Received: August 18

Dean clenched his jaw and tucked his phone in his pocket. He really couldn't afford the looks Sam was going to give him if he ignored Bobby and Ellen for drinking at another family gathering. He hadn't been happy last time and neither had Jo. He still had the bruised ribs to prove it.

**Me:** I'm like an old man, tight lipped, filled to the brim with only emptiness. Alone in my apartment with all my doubt and shame, regret and bitterness.  
Sent: August 21

It was Wednesday, and the sane part of him knew that he shouldn't be drinking. But he woke up feeling sad and he was lonely and the only thing that seemed to want to give him company was the whiskey bottle.

**Cas:** Look what you have done. You're my favorite song, always on the tip of my tongue. You own me with whispers like poetry; your mouth is a melody I memorize.  
Received: August 22

A hangover was pounding in his head and rolling in his stomach, and the smell of burnt oil had already brought him to the bathroom, with plenty of dirty looks from Bobby. But he smiled. Did he own Cas in any way that mattered?

**Me:** Yeah, you're a blue-eyed lightning bolt.  
Sent: August 22

He had laid in bed, wondering what to say. He wanted to say something sweet, but he didn't really know what. Then he heard it. Cas was a phenomenon, a force of nature.

**Cas:** Tonight, 'cause I can always quit tomorrow. And I'll find my will again.  
Received: 5:25PM

A chime had gone off as Dean pulled himself out of his car. He pulled his phone out and tried to figure out what Cas meant. They'd been texting back and forth for more than a month and he didn't think that either of them knew what they were doing.

It was confusing and Dean wasn't sure if he wanted it to stop or go on forever.

He was preoccupied and scrolling through his texts when a soft cough brought his attention up. Leaning against the door, Cas gave him a hesitant smile. Dean just stared for a few seconds, wondering why the idea that he meant to be here tonight had never crossed his mind.

Was there anything he should say? Was Cas going to say anything?

Dean just kept staring into those soul bright eyes and slid his phone in his pocket, fighting not to touch him as he unlocked his door. Cas stood straight just in time to avoid being dumped into the apartment. He kept his eyes on Dean, both men seemingly too confused to do anything but look.

When Cas shut the door behind them, Dean toed off his boots and crossed his arms. He knew that Cas would read the question on his features.

And he was right. "I don't know what I'm doing here, Dean." He leaned himself against the wall like he was tired and crossed his own arms. "I left here and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I don't remember the speech Balthazar told at my wedding, because I was remembering the way your shoulders had looked when you were on your knees."

He gave a glare and Dean felt his flesh heat. He breathed in, ready to speak, but Cas stopped him.

"I sent you a text because I refused to be the type of man that would be unfaithful. The thoughts never left. You never leave my thoughts, Dean, even when you have not contacted me in weeks." He'd started out looking defiantly into Dean's eyes, but now he was looking at the floor and his shoulders were slumped.

Dean gave a small smile while he couldn't see it and stepped closer. When Cas looked up, he looked sad but also daring. He gave another smile and then wrapped his hand around the other man's neck as he kissed him.

* * *

Songs in order of text:

A Day Late – Anberlin  
Sink into Me – Taking Back Sunday  
Cheap Shots – The Classic Crime  
Bittersweet Sundown – Framing Hanley  
The Fight – The Classic Crime  
One Eighty By Summer – Taking Back Sunday  
Count Me In – Framing Hanley  
Heaven and Hell – The Classic Crime  
Tip of my Tongue – The Civil Wars  
Logan to Government Center – Brand New  
Can Always Quit Tomorrow – Framing Hanley


	9. 2014

His twenty-third birthday saw him waking up alone at two in the afternoon, a hangover threatening from going out with Sam. He had met Jess, Sam's new lady friend he'd met in class. She hadn't stuck around for the drinking they'd done, claiming it was a brother's night and she didn't need to invite herself along.

Dean had had to listen to Sam get poetic about her beauty and goodness before the alcohol had stolen his thinking powers. He hadn't really minded, though. He loved seeing Sammy so happy and he'd listen to it for the rest of the year if it meant that he was going to get the life Dean knew he deserved.

His phone was devoid of messages when he grabbed it, though he hadn't expected anything. Sammy wasn't going to text because he took hangovers like a bitch. Cas was in Cancun. Those were really the only people that texted him, barring other mechanics at the shop asking to switch shifts and other work things.

Why Cas was in Cancun, Dean couldn't figure out. The woman seemed to be made of money and was always taking Cas random places for the hell of it.

Thinking of Cas in the sun made him turn his thoughts where they were bound to go anyway. Just for the thrill of stating it, he typed in a simple message. 'I miss you.' He stared at it, wondering what Cas would do if it were on his phone when he got back. Would he ignore it? Would he respond to it? What would he say?

Dean didn't really have the guts to do it, though. He deleted it before he decided he wanted pancakes on his birthday. The weekend passed with calls from a few friends and radio silence from Cas.

The weekend before Valentine's Day, Cas showed up at his door with a boxed wrapped in blue paper. It was crinkly and the underside showed where he'd folded it because he had apparently cut too much paper. Dean ignored it in favor of reacquainting himself with his body. When his body was still shaky, Cas tripped back into the bedroom and thrust the box into his lap. Inside the paper was a box set of all six Star Wars movies.

He thanked him and then opened them all to check out the DVD art. Episodes one through three had been taped over with gift cards to a pie shop down the road with a note that said Cas knew he'd rather eat pie than watch them.

Teeth cut into his lip as he did his best not to tell Cas he loved him. Instead, he demanded that they go get pie and then watch the good ones.

When Cas left Sunday afternoon, neither had mentioned that Valentine's Day was the next weekend.

In the middle of March, Cas and Dean were climbing out of the shower when a the rain that had been threatening all day hit. Within an hour, the entire block was without power. They spent the rest of the weekend on the couch, Dean laid out across Cas's lap. In between chapters of Vonnegut that Cas read by flashlight and candle, Dean would get bored with laying in the dark apartment that was leaking and would try to trick Cas into having sex.

Most of the time, Cas would smile and gently redirect his interest back to the book. A few times, though, Dean convinced him with a blow job.

The power didn't come back on until hours after Cas had left, and Dean was laying on the couch, smelling a cinnamon scented pillow. He shut the lights off and fell asleep there.

April saw three mechanics at Dean's job quit, making him work sixty to seventy hour weeks. He didn't have the time to see Cas at all, but still dreamed about him.

When Bobby managed to hire replacements at the end of the month, Dean was sick of his apartment. Coming home to another leak in his pipes after Sam's birthday party, he decided to look for a new place.

Thanks to his being a stingy bastard and the crazy overtime the entire month, when he found a house he liked in the middle of May, he bought it on a whim. He wasn't moved in until the weekend after Cas visited, so he'd have to wait to see it.

In June, Dean drank too much. Meg had decided that she and Cas needed to spend the entire month in Italy celebrating their first year of marriage. At the end of the month, he found that he had developed a gut and joined the gym. He didn't stop drinking so much until Cas texted him, letting him know he was three shades browner and back in Kansas.

The weekend after Independence Day, Dean and Cas decided to try camping. They both remembered loving it as kids but hadn't gone in years. They had the car packed up and ready to go before afternoon got very far.

Having sex in the woods had been interesting, knowing they had to keep quiet lent an air of excitement that had been fun if not needed.

Sleeping in a tent, though, was awful. The tent got too hot being closed up, but when it was open, the mosquitoes got in and ate them both. The ground was lumpy, seemingly magically because it didn't matter how many blankets they piled between it and their flesh. It didn't matter how many times Dean changed position, there always seemed to be a stick under his ribs. He'd checked the ground before setting up the tent, though.

When they woke up Saturday morning, Cas asked if they should get a hotel room. They were packed up by noon and had bought fireworks by three. They shot them off the balcony that night, and Cas almost lost an ear when he was going down on Dean who had a lit firework in his hand. Dean returned the favor after making sure that he was okay.

Dean realized he hadn't visited his mother's grave since his father had died more than three years ago. He made the lonely trek out to both of their gravestones, not even letting Sam know that he was coming. He sat for a few hours talking to his mother's stone, wondering what life would have been like if the house hadn't caught fire. He told her about Cas, saying she'd like him. He apologized to her for being involved with a married man, feeling that the married part would bother her a lot more than the man part.

Standing up to leave, he gave his dad's stone a nod and a lazy salute, but said nothing to him. Everything they needed to say to each other had been shouted through the air enough times that he didn't need to repeat them.

When Cas wanted to come down, Dean asked him not to. He was emotionally raw and needed time. When they were disconnected, Dean wanted Cas to hug him.

There was some kind of book fair going on at the library Cas worked at, so he didn't make it down until the weekend before his birthday. Meg had already planned for them to go skiing in Aspen for that week. Dean pressed as many silent 'I-love-you's into his flesh with his kisses as he could stand. He felt empty when he left.

He was worried about his baby and sweaty from work when he pulled up to his house on Halloween. As soon as he opened his door, he glanced at the car next to his and then raced into the house. Cas had let himself in and was in the shower. Dean joined him while Cas explained that Meg had decided to go to a fashion show in Milan, leaving him free to come down.

There were two pairs of black jeans and two long-sleeved black shirts on the bed when they finally left the shower. Dean raised his eyebrow at them, and Cas said they were going out. He convinced Dean to pull half of them on and then tie a black bandana around his eyes as Cas did the same.

Dean wasn't really sure why they were dressed identically, but he went with it. When they showed up at the bar, Cas got close behind him, his nose tickling the skin just below Dean's ear. He said there was a reason they were in masks.

That night, they didn't pretend to just be friends. They danced against each other and kissed in corners, not worrying about who saw them. All they had to do was be sure to not talk to Balthazar and to stay out of his way when he came in with a man and a woman on his arms.

It was going to be one of his favorite memories for the rest of his life, he knew. He could look at Cas and think he wanted to kiss him and then actually do it, not stow it away for the next time they were alone. It was intoxicating. He didn't even mind when Cas cut them both off from drinking after only two shots.

Thanksgiving gave him snow and his entire family asking him questions he'd rather not answer. Bobby wondered why he acted like a lovesick idjit if there wasn't a girl. Ellen told him he better bring whoever it was around so she could meet her. Jo demanded that she be able to throw a punch if he was actually serious about her. Sammy looked wounded, probably thinking that Dean had for some reason decided not to introduce her to him.

Only Jess seemed to be on his side, politely turning an inquiry into questions about Jo's dating habits. When the blond girl turned red and tried to change the subject, they had a new target. Dean said nothing and made sure no one was looking when he poured rum from Bobby's cabinet into his punch.

December was worse than November had been because Cas was in Maine all month with Meg's family. He bought home gym equipment and spent every day after work working out. Weekends he was drunk from Friday night until he tried to sober out Sunday night. Some days were better than others.

Cas sent him random pictures that made him smile, but he deleted them whenever there was any indication of Meg's presence. He made it through because he thought about Halloween and how he had convinced himself that Cas was only his.


	10. Hold It In

Dean didn't see Cas between Halloween and the middle of March. He'd wasn't completely sure why, Cas hadn't been very forthcoming. When he showed up that Friday, he seemed distracted the whole night.

Saturday was different, though. Dean woke to a yowl from the kitchen that had him jumping out of bed. What he found made him laugh and hold back declarations of love. Cas was glaring at a pan of bacon and rubbing at a red spot on his stomach. "Why would you cook bacon shirtless, Cas?"

He shot a sheepish look to Dean. "I may have thought I was more agile than I am." When Dean started laughing again, Cas glared at him.

The clock in the kitchen read ten, and Dean raised an eyebrow. Cas never got up earlier than noon if he could help it. "Why are you cooking so early?" He asked as he wrapped his arms around him. Their bare skin touched and the thin pajama pants they both wore were rather pointless barriers between them. He breathed into his ear, only stopping when blue eyes leveled at him in mock annoyance.

"I was going to go make you breakfast in bed and then not let you out of it for the rest of today." He turned back to the bacon when it popped and splattered his stomach again. Some touched Dean's arm, but he didn't react. He was where he loved to be. Home, with Cas in his arms and nothing planned.

Thinking those things was just going to have him blurting the words that he knew he shouldn't, so instead he threw on a smile and asked, "How were you planning on keeping me there?"

Cas smirked before turning back to the bacon. It might have had something to do with the evidence that he liked the plan that happened to be poking him.

An hour later they crawled out of bed again, ready to clean up the mess that Cas had made. Dean washed and rinsed while Cas dried. He was rinsing out the bacon pan – and it had been a bitch to get the congealed grease and bacon out of it – water shot over the edge and across Cas's back. "Woops."

Dean would have gone back to cleaning and let it be at that. But Cas gave him a look and then reached over and splashed Dean in the face. A full blown water fight broke out after that. Water was on the walls, both of them, and the floor, making the footing treacherous.

He'd reached to grab a towel when Cas dropped an ice cube down his pants. He couldn't help the high pitched squeak that had come out of his throat when it touched his skin. He jumped back and slipped on the water, trying to catch himself but slipping in the water again. His wrist was under him with his hand bent oddly.

It hurt, but not too badly. He thought he was fine until Cas gave his wrist a horrified look. It was swollen and there was weird knot on his wrist. It didn't hurt until Cas helped him put a shirt on. The sleeve had caught on his wrist before being tugged into position.

Cas was calm as he drove them to the hospital, but his eyes were too wide. Dean knew that it was the way he worried. He didn't hover like a bird, letting Dean open his own door. It was his left hand, so it was pretty easy to just not touch it.

When they left the hospital four hours later, Dean had a neon green cast – he'd talked the doctor out of the hot pink one that Cas had asked for – and a prescription for Ibuprofen he intended to ignore. If Cas would let him, he'd really rather just drink. Cas, of course, stopped to have the prescription filled and amused himself with looking for stickers to put on the cast while they waited.

They were driving back when Dean threw the stickers out the window. Cas looked offended, but Dean smiled at him. His wrist already itched and working around this thing in the shop was going to be a bitch, but he was happy.

"I will just draw something on it if you won't put the stickers on." Cas looked smug looking over the steering wheel.

If it hadn't been his left hand that was in a cast, he'd have reached over and ran a hand across Cas's cheek. He liked to act like an offended cat, but Dean knew he enjoyed it. He spent the ride home watching Cas sing along to the radio.

"You gotta feel it, be it keeps you up at night. You know that I'm leaving." Dean did his best not to let the lyrics get to him. "Everything will be alright, and even when I'm miles away you got me high like cocaine. We're moving faster than a freeway and I can feel you in my veins. Baby, take my pain away." He smiled as he sang and Dean couldn't help smiling along. "Hit me like a kick drum, love me like we're still young. We're older but we're still the same. Baby, take my pain away."

Dean sang along for the rest of it. "I'll make it worth it if you see it through. Days without speaking, probably think I'm over you. And even when I'm miles away, you got me high like cocaine…"

As the last of the song faded on the speakers, they pulled up. Cas looked over in time to see the stupid smile that was on Dean's lips. He asked what he was thinking with just the look on his face. Dean swallowed before he fought the smile into one less dripping with love. "Nothing. Let's go inside."

* * *

Take My Pain Away - Anarbor


	11. I love you

He hadn't wanted to get out of bed, dragging Dean back down into the blankets for kisses every time he tried to get up. Dean took it, laughing and wishing it was every Sunday of his life. It was drawing the goodbye out too long and he knew it would just hurt more, but he loved it. He didn't want to think about the fact that next Sunday he'd probably be staying in bed until two, hungover and missing Cas.

Finally, two hours after he was supposed to be on the road, Cas was at the door, ready to go, but his lips were pressed against Dean's and his arms were around him. He was being more affectionate than he usually was, but Dean didn't mind. He returned it in spades, holding him even tighter and making the kiss deeper.

Cas pulled himself away before they could end up back in the bedroom. For a second, Dean let himself wonder what it would be like to wake up and get ready for work, Cas grumpily hiding himself from the lights and kissing him goodbye, still there when he got home from work. It was enough to make him want to ask, but he knew he wouldn't get it. He didn't deserve it anyway. This sneaking around and waiting was what he was good at.

Except, he didn't want to be.

He was oblivious to Dean's inner turmoil, giving a smile. "I will be back as soon as I can, Dean." With another quick kiss he was out the door. Just before it closed, Dean heard it, a sound that almost brought him to his knees. "I love you, Dean."

His head was spinning and his chest felt tight with the need to shout it back. He wanted to fly out the door and grab Cas and never let him go. He wanted to hear him say it again and again, in every tone he could. He wanted to whisper it into each other's ears in the middle of the night.

He wouldn't. He had to maintain his pride. He had to maintain the idea that he was in control of something.

Cas had him chained to him in every way. He was always waiting on Cas. And this once, Cas could wait on him. Cas could wonder if Dean felt that way about him. Cas could wonder if he was enough.

He was. He so fucking was, but Dean didn't want to give that to him tonight. He wanted to be petty and exact some small revenge on the man that had been tearing him up for five years – because if he was honest with himself, which he preferred not to do when it came to Cas, it was from way before graduation.

Dean poured himself a glass of whiskey from a bottle he'd hidden in his closet. He had noticed that they tended to go missing when Cas visited, but Dean couldn't even get mad about it. He just took precautions so the void of missing him would be able to be numbed by something.

He sat at his table with a pack of cigarettes and his whiskey, just listening to music and thinking. Months ago, he had made CD's, outdated technology but he loved the idea of them. There were at least ten that were dedicated to Cas, but only one for when he left. He listened to the songs, connected to the music and trying to hold himself together. He sang along with the lyrics that he felt particularly close to.

"Love is a terrible art, it's a hook in the heart that can drag you on broken glass, and as you protest the shards in your flesh, the hook tears out your chest until you're just a broken mess." It was true. Love had done nothing good for him. All it had managed was to make him into even more of a half-man than he'd been. Half the bottle was gone and he turned up the sound.

"Take everything from me, it means nothing now. Not so easy to forgive, harder to forget. Take what you want." His throat was raw and aching, but he lit another cigarette as soon as he stubbed out the one before. He wanted to forget about this whole thing. He wanted to go back to the way he was because at least then it was just regret. This hope was poisoning him.

Dean belted out lyrics, taking drinks straight from the bottle between words. "You let me lead but I still follow. You tell me not to think of tomorrow; still beg and borrow just to keep you with me. And your hand – my hand – just push the world away." He wanted to be alone with him forever. He wanted to have him to himself.

"All I want to do is build a home. You've got my heart and my soul." On the way back from the bathroom, he stumbled and bumped his wrist. It made him angry, and he'd never been that good at dealing with his anger. He slammed his other hand into the wall, breaking the skin on his knuckles open and leaving a dent in the wall. Cas had everything, every single thing. He had his family in Meg and then he got Dean, too. He wished he could hate him for that, but he couldn't. Hating Cas was something he thought was beyond him.

"I love you, too, Cas." It was the first time he'd ever said it out loud. The fact that it hurt his throat just made it seem more important.

* * *

Broken Mess – The Classic Crime

[Love is a terrible art, it's a hook in the heart that can drag you on broken glass, and as you protest the shards in your flesh, the hook tears out your chest until you're just a broken mess.]

Impossible – Anberlin

[Take everything from me, it means nothing now. Not so easy to forgive, harder to forget. Take what you want.]

What I'd Give Up – The Classic Crime

[All I want to do is build a home. You've got my heart and my soul.]

Do Me Right – The All American Rejects

[You let me lead but I still follow. You tell me not to think of tomorrow; still beg and borrow just to keep you with me. And your hand – my hand – just push the world away.]


	12. Lying by omission

Cas was supposed to be by in April, but a coworker had gotten the flu and he had to work through the weekend. So, Dean had gotten his cast removed by himself, tucking it away in a box when he got home.

Two weeks later, he still had an hour or two before Cas got there, so Dean took out his trash. It wasn't smelly, it wasn't overflowing. There were just a few too many whiskey bottles that he didn't want to explain to Cas. He didn't want to see the look of disappointment on his face that he always got when he knew Dean was drinking too much. It was easier to throw them away and have them both pretend that Dean wasn't a fuck up who couldn't handle his time alone.

Dean was sitting on the couch, not paying attention to the show on the TV, wondering where he'd put his cigarettes when he heard the key in the door. He turned off the TV and was about to stand when Cas entered. He looked sad or lost or something, but he never got a chance to ask about it. The other man toed his shoes off and then launched himself at Dean.

The greetings were still his favorite part. They were the only time Dean could convince himself that Cas was happy to see him. When their lips touched, Dean could remember why he was putting himself through hell for this man. When they had sex, he could get lost in physical sensation and fantasy lands where this was every day.

Afterwards, while Cas slept off a day of work, a four hour drive, and frantic sex, Dean pulled a pair of jeans on and started picking up. Cas's clothes were in a line from the door to the couch to the bedroom. He balanced a laundry basket on his hip as he bent to grab his dress pants. His wallet dropped from the pocket, making Dean roll his eyes. Trust Cas to have a rich wife and still carry around a leather wallet that was so old it was cracking.

When he grabbed the wallet, a glossy piece of white paper was sticking out a bit. When his finger brushed it, it was smooth and revealed a greyish square. He pulled it out, curious what Cas would have in his wallet besides money.

Dean had seen them before, of course, but he hadn't expected to find one in Cas's wallet.

He tucked it back in the wallet and set it on the table. Then, he continued gathering clothes and starting a load of laundry. Under the sink, there was a bottle of whiskey. He pulled it out, debating getting a glass before shrugging and drinking from the bottle. The burn went along nicely with the hurt and anger and betrayal in his stomach. He started on the dishes that had been piling up for a few days.

He continued drinking, getting pleasantly buzzed while he cleaned the house. The stove was sparkling, there were no more leftovers in the fridge, and there was no dust on the TV anymore. The vacuum hummed to life in his hand as he broke from buzzed to tipsy.

He was still vacuuming and drinking when the buzzer for the dryer went off. Cas's head popped out of the bedroom, but Dean didn't react. He looked groggy and his hair was messed up and the betrayal in Dean's stomach spiked into his throat. Dean tried to soothe it with another sip.

Cas's eyebrows snapped together in a scowl. "You should not be drinking, Dean."

Dean's response was to smile and take another swig, bigger this time because he knew how Cas hated that he could take shots without a chaser. When Cas looked ready to hit him, he turned off the vacuum. "You shouldn't be here, Cas." He said his name like a curse.

The scowl dropped from his face, replaced with confusion. Dean had to take another drink before he could continue. "When were you going to tell me you're gonna be a dad? When's Meg due?"

He watched as the color drained from Cas's face. There was satisfaction in Dean as he saw the knowledge that he knew about the baby come over him. He thought he must have been wrong when Cas came in. He hadn't been sad; he'd been lost in thought about his baby.

"When did you find out, Cas? How long have you known and not told me?" Dean hated the hurt tone slipping into the words. He wanted to be pissed off; he didn't want him to know that it was killing him.

Cas swallowed as he moved toward Dean. Dean held up his hand. He couldn't handle Cas close to him right now. He stopped, his eyes boring into Dean's. "When I got home after you broke your wrist. Dean, I was –"

"You've known for two fucking months and you couldn't let me know? Couldn't call me? Send a fucking text?" There it was, the rage that he wanted to wrap himself in to stop the broken look on Cas's face from affecting him.

"I –"

"I think it's better if you leave, Cas." He wrapped the cord up on the vacuum, not looking at the man who had his bleeding heart in his hands. "And don't come back anymore."

He could feel Cas's eyes on him before he went into the laundry room. He grabbed his clothes and must have changed in there, because he came out wearing his own clothes. He grabbed his wallet from the table, dropping it into his pocket as he fisted his keys. "I didn't know how to tell you."

Dean gave a bitter laugh. "Fucking trying would have helped."

He didn't feel like he had taken a breath between finding the ultrasound and the door softly shutting behind Cas. When he did, his chest ached and he was fighting off tears.

* * *

This was hard to write.


	13. August again

His bed smelled like sex and sweat. He was hung over and stretching let him know there were scabs down his back. The best part about sleeping with Cassie had been that when he inevitably said Cas's name, it had sounded like hers. She'd just purred his name back and he had done everything he could to end it.

For some reason, Dean was convinced that every new person would be different. That he could ignore the burning. He burned with anger and love and resentment and frustration and it was all for Cas.

He pulled up some music and almost cried when he heard the words. "I never meant to get us in this deep. I never meant for this to mean a thing. Oh, I wish you were the one – wish you were the one that got away. I got caught up by the chase, and you got high on every little game. I wish you were the one – wish you were the one that got away. Oh, if I could go back in time when you only held me in my mind, just a longing gone without a trace. Oh, I wish I'd never ever seen your face." Everything had to be about Cas. Every fucking thing he saw or heard just reminded him of the smile he wore and the way his voice sounded in the morning or in orgasm.

The song faded into another that was just as bad. "Waking up without you, it doesn't feel right to sleep with only memories. It's harder every night. Sometimes I think I can feel you breathing on my neck. Tonight, I'm reaching out to the stars, I think that he owes me a favor. It doesn't matter where you are, I'll hold you again. I wish I could hear your voice and don't leave me alone in this bed. I wish I could touch you once more. And don't leave me alone in this bed, not tonight, not tomorrow. I've got a feeling that this will never cease."

The song cut off with a click. Dean wouldn't make that mistake again. He pulled the sheets from the bed and tucked them into the washing machine. They smelled like a stranger's sweat and perfume when he still expected cinnamon. It didn't matter that it had been a month and a half. He was disgusted with himself for still being so caught up in Cas.

He couldn't remember how many strangers he'd buried himself in to get him out of his head. It never worked. When he finally came and orgasm clouded his mind, he always expected to see striking blue eyes and messy black hair. He always expected a deep and rough voice to say his name in a whisper, like a plea or a prayer. He felt emptier every time it didn't happen.

The ringing of his phone brought his attention to the device. He set down his glass of whiskey to answer it. "Hello?"

"Hey, Dean."

"Oh, Sammy! How's it goin'?" He liked hearing from his brother. It reminded him there was more to his life than his screwed up obsession with Cas and his heartache.

"It's good. I was just wondering if you were gonna go to the party tonight? You never really gave me a straight answer." He could hear keys clicking in the background and he was amazed by his brother again. He was carrying on a conversation with him and probably working on a paper at the same time.

Dean grimaced. He didn't really want to go with Sam to a party at Balthazar's house. He probably invited Meg and Cas and he really didn't have the strength to see either of them. "I don't know, Sam…"

"Come on, man! You know Jess can't go, she's working tonight. I hate going to parties by myself and Cas isn't even going to be there so I can't talk to him about books."

If Sam wanted to go and Cas wouldn't be there, Dean supposed he could go. "Alright, fine. I'll meet you there."

He looked through his texts after they hung up. He'd sent one to Cas last night if he remembered correctly. And he did, because it was right there.

**Me:** If this is love then fuck, I don't want it anymore. If this is love then fuck it, I was better off before. If this is love then fuck it, lose the battle win the war. I don't love you anymore. Ripping your chest apart, won't stop til your beating heart – bit off more than you could chew. I learned everything from you.

Sent: 12:27AM

* * *

The One that Got Away – The Civil Wars

[I never meant to get us in this deep. I never meant for this to mean a thing. Oh, I wish you were the one - wish–you were the one that got away. I got caught up in the chase, and you got high on every little game. I wish you were the one – wish you were the one that got away. Oh, if I could go back in time when you only held me in my mind, just a longing gone without a trace. Oh, I wish I'd never ever seen your face.]

Alone in this Bed – Framing Hanley

[Waking up without you, it doesn't feel right to sleep with only memories. It's harder every night. Sometimes I think I can feel you breathing on my neck. Tonight, I'm reaching out to the stars, I think that he owes me a favor. It doesn't matter where you are, I'll hold you again. I wish I could hear your voice and don't leave me alone in this bed. I wish I could touch you once more. And don't leave me alone in this bed, not tonight, not tomorrow. I've got a feeling that this will never cease.]

I Don't Love You Anymore – Anarbor

[If this is love then fuck it, I don't want it anymore. If this is love then fuck it, I was better off before. If this is love then fuck it, lose the battle win the war. I don't love you anymore. Ripping your chest apart, won't stop til your beating heart – bit off more than you could chew. I learned everything from you.]


	14. Stay

He had been inside for a half hour and he was already sure that he wanted to leave soon. Sammy was having no problems talking to everyone, and so he assumed that his getting Dean to come had simply been a ploy to get him to be social since he didn't realize how freaking social he was being every weekend. The party was full of people he barely remembered from high school and his ill-fated one semester at the community college, but there were a smattering of people that looked to be contacts of Balthazar's from his advertisement firm. Why would Balthazar invite such a mismatched group of people?

And, to top it off, Sam was watching him and looking wounded every time he looked at the alcohol table, so he was stuck drinking soda.

He was thinking about leaving then, just quietly sneaking out without Sam noticing when a gleeful cry came from the newly opened doorway drew his attention. Balthazar was drunk and given to hugging, but there were only a few people he was ever quite so flamboyant about. When he finally stood back, Dean could see that this night had gotten a whole lot shittier while he wasn't paying attention.

Who else could possibly be standing in the doorway but Cas?

"I thought you weren't coming!" Balthazar voiced what Dean wanted to ask, but wouldn't. He didn't really feel like explaining why he wouldn't want the man that everyone knew was his best friend at a party. He'd have to explain that they weren't really friends anymore because he found out his wife was pregnant after they fucked. And that would go over just fucking perfect, he was sure.

"Meg was worried that it had been too long since I had seen you all. She insisted that I make an appearance tonight." Cas's voice sent pain running down his body and Dean suddenly couldn't be there right then.

He sat his soda down and went to the bathroom, not so incidentally passing by a half empty bottle of vodka on the way. Three swallows down, he stood in front of the sink, his hands braced on it and staring down into the pristine white bowl. Music billowed into the room as the door opened, and he was suddenly looking through the mirror into the face of the man that had him drinking away his pain. "Leave me alone, Cas." His voice came out a little broken, but he thought there might be enough bitter anger to cover it up. He lifted the bottle to his lips only to have it snatched away.

"Stop killing yourself, Dean." His eyes were flashing and there were spots of color on his cheeks that Dean knew only showed when he got angry.

Dean pushed himself away from the sink and made a grab for the bottle. Cas held it away from him, completely unfazed at Dean's anger. "You don't get a say in it anymore! And why should you care?" He shoved Cas and he hit the door behind him.

"I care because I love you." He said it so calmly. There was vodka on his skin from where it had sloshed out of the bottle and he was wearing a tee shirt like a normal fucking person for once and he loved Dean. "I don't want to see you hurt."

"Too fucking late, Cas." He shoved him back and grabbed the bottle, managing another swallow before Cas gave a disgusted sigh and turned around. His hand was on the doorknob and Dean realized that he was going to go away again. He was going to leave and Dean was going to get drunk and his brother was going to look at him like he was disappointed and Dean wouldn't care because he was drunk but it'd bother him for the rest of his life because he was always letting Sammy down.

He didn't want to do that and so before Cas could walk out, he had a hand on his shoulder and was turning him around. Dean pushed him into the door before pressing his lips against Cas's. And he kissed back. He didn't seem to mind the violence either.

He bit into his mouth and took control with his tongue. His hands were ripping at Cas's jeans and he was pretty sure he would have stopped to think about it, but Cas's hands were on his jeans, too. He pulled back from the kiss just long enough to look around the room before Cas directed his attention to a drawer. Trust Balthazar to keep lube in the bathroom.

Once he found it, he put it on himself and on his fingers before forcing Cas to turn around. He only spent a fraction of the time he knew he should have opening Cas, but he was still so angry and hurt and Cas only moaned and pushed himself further onto Dean's fingers.

Then, he was buried in him and he heard a gasp from in front of him but then he started moving so Dean let go. He bit his shoulder when the angry, forceful rhythm got erratic. He could feel himself getting close and so he reached in front of him with the hand that was still slick with lube. They were off beat and Dean was glad there was music blaring into the room because he knew that they weren't keeping nearly quiet enough for no one to notice without it. He was thrusting his hips harder and Cas's hands were on his hips, encouraging every one. He came, letting his jaw relax around the muscle that was tensing beneath his teeth and then laid his head on it. Cas started trembling and then his hand was warm as he came too.

Both of them were breathing raggedly and standing with their jeans around their ankles. He thought it was a little bit fucked up, but he couldn't help how his heart finally felt like it was back in his chest when it was beating against Cas's. He was starting to shake and he knew it was because he was never going to have what he really wanted. He couldn't leave this room with his hand in Cas's and then take him back to his house with catcalls because everyone knew they were going to fuck. No one could know. But he knew that he couldn't take nothing either. He was selfish enough that he'd take whatever Cas would give.

There were tears on his cheeks somehow and he didn't remember them coming. Cas either didn't notice or was choosing not to mention it. "I don't want you to be gone." The words were spoken against his back in a shattered whisper that didn't sound like him but did at the same time.


	15. Happy Birthday

The cool plastic under his body was uncomfortable and lumpy. He wished he could use it as an excuse to leave, but there was no way Sam would take such a flimsy reason to leave the celebration. Gabriel had decided that they should all go get dinner to celebrate. Dean could find no reason to back out that wouldn't put a whole different perspective on the night for everyone. And he couldn't really have that, now could he? So, instead, he was here with these people celebrating something he really had no reason to be happy about.

At three o clock this afternoon, Meredith Angel Novak was born.

Of course, he wasn't enough of a dick to actually be mad at the baby. What kind of a shitty person would get mad at a baby for being born? No, he was angry because Cas was there and he wouldn't be coming back for at least a few weeks.

Balthazar pulled out his phone and turned a blinding smile onto it. "Precious." Was all he said as he passed the thing around. Dean couldn't very well say that he didn't want to look at his lover's child, so when it came to him he looked at it.

A red little scrap of humanity with dark hair was tucked under Meg's chin, looking at the camera with big blue eyes. He forced a smile before he passed it back, wondering if she'd grow into Meg's brown eyes or would there be a little girl running around with Cas's beautiful blue ones. The thought hit like a knife in his stomach.

He slammed the last of his beer and ignored the look that Jess and Sam gave him when he asked if anyone else wanted more. Balthazar and Gabriel didn't realize that they were trying to lessen his drinking, so Balthazar called for a round of shots and beers in celebration. Dean clinked his shot against theirs and dropped it down his throat, barely registering the burn.

Three more empty beer bottles sat at his elbow when Balthazar and Gabriel went to go find music and Jess went to the bathroom. "Dean, you need to cool it." Dean just raised his brows and took another drink. This one would be empty soon, so he'd have to get another soon. Maybe he should switch to liquor since that would give him the numbness that he truly desired right now. "I'm serious. I'm worried about you. After what happened to Dad, I can't believe you'd drink so much."

A chuckle left his mouth. "I can see why Dad did it, though." He finished the beer and held his hand up. When the waitress came over, he ordered a whiskey.

Sam huffed in indignation, but waited until she left before he spoke. "You didn't exactly have the love of your life die in a car accident. Have you even found the love of your life?"

Dean gave him a look, knowing that there was pain in the back of his eyes and that his brother would see. Sammy always saw. He was confused, but Dean didn't bother trying to clear it up. He was smart; he'd connect dots sooner or later. Instead, he took a drink of the amber liquid in front of him. Dean looked up just in time to see the confusion be replaced by shock. "Cas?"

He didn't know why he'd let the conversation come here. Sam wouldn't let it go and then he'd probably go into a spiel about how Cas was married and Dean had no business loving him and then he'd realize that they spent a lot of weekends together with him staying at Dean's house. Then there would be the whole, why was a wonderful man like Cas cheating on his wife with the lowly mechanic? Of course, those wouldn't be the words he'd use, but Dean knew that he was a shitty person and so the idea that his brother would be able to tell wasn't all that impossible for him to understand.

Jess came back to the table as Sam was still working through his thoughts. "Can you make sure they don't put on something horrible?" Jess gave him an odd look, and Dean knew that Sam had tilted his head at Dean before she got up and left them alone again. "How long?"

"Since I loved him?" Dean asked and then shrugged. "Started sleeping together when he came to town before the wedding." He ignored the look that Sam always got when he talked about his sexual conquests. Dude was too easy.

"Uh…" Sam kept starting speaking but ending it before getting out much more than that. "I don't know what to say."

"Keep my hands to myself? End it, because he's obviously happy with his wife? Move on? Find someone else? That's already crossed my mind. But he can't be that happy if he's the one that comes here." Dean finished his drink and signaled for another. Sam barely even registered it because he was looking at Dean, his eyes sad and his eyebrows drawn together.

"You really love him."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Thought I said that." When he went to take a sip of his new drink, Sam stopped him. He got the waitress to bring him a drink as well and then he tapped their drinks together.

"I know it sucks. You can't have what you want and it hurts so you drink to make it numb." Dean nodded but couldn't look at Sam. He didn't like Sam knowing exactly how bad of a person he was, and he even cared that Sam probably thought less of Cas now. "You can't kill yourself slowly like Dad, though, Dean. You're all the family I have left."

He could only look him in the eye and shrug. "I'll try." He knew that it wasn't the best answer to give, but it was all he was going to get out of him since everyone else was sitting down again, bringing more drinks. He couldn't explain that it had started to be that even with Cas around he wanted to drink, because he wanted that floating numbness he got. He wanted to live in a fantasy world where things were funny and he could pick at Cas and Cas would get irritated but smile and kiss him and there was no Meg.

Sam and Jess brought him home that night and helped him stumble into his room. Sam set out a glass of water and some aspirin, leaving with only one more admonition to be careful.

Dean didn't fall asleep, even though the room was spinning around him and he felt vaguely nauseous. Instead, he thought about Cas. After the party, things had been different. Meg was apparently a very angry pregnant woman because she wanted to be alone a lot. She kept telling Cas to go away. Almost every weekend from that party until last week Cas had been in Dean's bed. Dean had almost convinced himself that they were going in a different direction, but then Cas had called over the weekend saying he thought it was going to be soon.

He'd seen Cas more but known him less. They tiptoed around things, both of them afraid to bring up anything too serious for fear of breaking the fragile balance they'd achieved. They acted like friends during the day, sharing the couch but never touching. They never touched each other, except accidentally and they both seemed to jump away from the sensation. Only at night would things seem anything close to normal. They would make love and cuddle and whisper secrets to each other when it was dark and there were no sounds to hear but each other's breath.

Even that was going to change, now. How often would Cas really come down when he had a baby at home?


	16. Wasted time

strongCas:/strong Being gone, I never felt so alone. I haven't seen myself since I last left home.

Received: December 1

strongMe:/strong It might seem wrong, but it's so right. So let us conjure up this feeling and paint the dreams we used to paint tonight.

Sent: December 2

strongCas:/strong It brings me down but I'm the one to blame. I've tried everything to get away. So here I go again, chasing you down. Why do I do this? Over and over, over and over I fall for you. Over and over, over and over I try not to.

Received: December 15

strongMe:/strongYou've held your head up. You've fought the fight, you bear the scars. You've done your time.

Sent: December 16

strongCas:/strong We're the perfect fit. You've got me hooked, so lit I could never quit I just burn away.

Received: December 17

strongMe:/strong The past, the future, they don't exist. All you have is now. Is this enough for you?

Sent: December 29

strongCas:/strong You are the rhythm to my rhyme. You are my radio, turn you up when I feel low. You are the soundtrack to all I know, you are the rock to my roll.

Received: Jan 4

strongMe:/strong Cold, but I'm still here. Blind, cause I'm so blind. Say never, we're far from comfortable this time. Cold, now we're so cold. Mine and you're not mine.

Sent: Jan 13

strongCas:/strong Oh Lord, oh Lord, what have I done? I've fallen in love with a man on the run. Oh Lord, oh Lord, I'm begging you please don't take that sinner from me.

Received: February 14

strongMe:/strong Hope dangles on a string like slow spinning redemption, winding in and winding out. The shine of it has caught my eye.

Sent: February 28

strongCas:/strong Torturing ourselves, we must be into the abuse.

Received: March 16

strongMe:/strong There's a devil in my head, an angel in my bed that's getting colder. I'm trying to warm it up with the only way I know.

Sent: March 19

strongCas:/strong Well take me, take me back to your bed. I love you so much it hurts my head. Say I don't mind you under my skin, I'll let the bad parts in.

Received: March 25

strongMe:/strong Maybe you love me after all. I'll take whatever brings you back. Nobody makes me feel like that. Please don't ever let me lose your light, in this dark you are my light.

Sent: June 12

strongCas:/strong You always thought that I left myself open. But you didn't know I was already broken.

Received: July 3

strongMe:/strong If it's no one's fault there's just no one to blame and nothing to say. This time it's no one's fault. Oh, there's nothing to save and no one to hate. But I want you so bad, believe me.

Sent: July 27

strongCas:/strong And I got the point that I should leave you alone, but we both know that I'm not that strong. And I miss the lips that made me fly.

Received: August 28

strongMe:/strong I know you mean well with your ancient code of ethics.

Sent: September 4

strongMe:/strong And being clear gets too much for me, just like it does for you. Even though I want to, I want to, I don't. I don't feel like calming down, no, I don't. I don't feel like hiding out, so I won't. I can't turn the volume down so I sit here in this chaos and piss, watching the storm passing.

Sent: October 12

strongCas:/strong If luck is on my side tonight, my clumsy tongue will make it right, and wrists that touch. It isn't much, but it's enough to form imaginary lines. Forget your scars, we'll forget mine. The hours change so fast. Oh, God, please make this last.

Received: October 14

StrongMe:/strong I'm throwing away pictures that I never should have taken in the first place. And it's cold in my apartment as I'm changing all the colors from the brightest reds to grays. Well, it's 3 o clock on Monday morning.

Sent: October 17

strongCas:/strong Breathe for love tomorrow, cause maybe there's another day.

Received: October 21

strongMe:/strong Despite the miles between us my heart will never change, cause you're all that it beats for. When you're all back to that door, I'm not saying that I don't believe I'm exactly where I want to be. Don't you take that from me, no. You know I still get lost in your eyes, with your lips and your kiss and your hand in mine. You're all that I need and I promise I'll sleep fine tonight just knowing you're here by my side. Don't give this up, don't give this up.

Sent: November 10

strongCas:/strong And next to you, and I never asked for more. I get my fix if I get close to you, with just a dose of you.

Received: November 19

"Message received November 19th at seven fifteen PM: emHello, Dean. I apologize, but I cannot seem to get away this weekend. Perhaps next weekend. I hope to see you soon./em" It took everything he had to not throw his phone into the wall.

* * *

In order of text:

In order of text:  
Carefree Highway – Anarbor  
Painted Dreams – The Classic Crime  
Over and Over – Three Days Grace  
Dust to Dust – The Civil Wars  
You and I – Anarbor  
Young Again – The Classic Crime  
Rock to My Roll – Anarbor  
Cold (But I'm Still Here) – Evans Blue  
Devil's Backbone – The Civil Wars  
Vindicated – Dashboard Confessional  
Blame Me! Blame Me! – Anberlin  
Angels & Devils – Royal Bliss  
Degausser – Brand New  
Blind – 12 Stones  
Lost in You – Three Days Grace  
Dark that Follows – Evans Blue  
Miserable at Best – Mayday Parade  
This is All Now – Taking Back Sunday  
Chaos and Piss – Pink  
I Swear, This Time I Mean It – Mayday Parade  
If You Wanted A Song Written About You, All You Had to Do Was Ask – Mayday Parade  
Breathe Until Tomorrow – Paramore  
The Promise – Framing Hanley  
Out the Door – All American Rejects


	17. Disappointments

Cas couldn't come the next weekend, either, since it was the one right after Thanksgiving and Meg had wanted to stay in Maine for another few days. By the middle of December, Dean had given up on seeing him before January. It had already been two months, why not add another?

He had also given up on ever meeting anyone that could take Cas's place in his heart and in his bed, and on making his family happy. Dean could see the years stretching on before him in this pathetic cycle. He always ended up calling Cas's name when he came, which meant he certainly never ended up sharing anyone's bed twice but his own. Half the time, he didn't see the point in picking anyone up, he just ended up drinking, alone and bitter.

Thus the inability to make his famly happy. No one but Sam understood why he felt the need to drink so much, and in the year or so since he'd found out, Sam had managed to go from disbelieving sympathy to uncomfortable disinterest to angry dissuasion. He still managed to scold Dean for drinking, though. Cas and his family were in perfect agreement about that.

So, Dean had stopped drinking so much – at home, where they could find the evidence. No more whiskey bottles weighed down his trash bags, but his savings were almost empty. Drinking eight or nine whiskeys to himself and maybe a few drinks for his chosen prey was much more expensive than just a bottle to himself.

He didn't know what he'd do when they ran out, because he would never do what his father had done and stop paying his bills to keep himself in liquor. It was mostly a problem he tried not to think about when he was sober, and when he was drink the plans ranged from impossible to laughable.

Sometimes, when he woke up with a particularly brutal hangover – or had too few memories of the night before – he thought maybe he'd give in to Bobby and Ellen, who had been offering to take him and pay for him to go into rehab. He thought that maybe it would be okay to accept their help because they loved him and he loved them and they would work it out between them.

Dean remembered what it was like to wake up with no headache or shakes or nausea when Cas managed to come down and he thought it would be a nice change. He never really drank when Cas was around, because he didn't really feel the need to. But then he would leave again and he remembered why they were a small price to pay for a little numbness.

He had managed to keep himself at home that Thursday night until he'd gotten the half expected call. Meg wanted to leave early Sunday morning so they could do some last minute Christmas shopping before meeting her parents for Christmas in Paris on Tuesday. Dean refused to beg him to come down for just one night, knowing Cas could always say he wanted to see his family for a night first. That refusal and his hanging up before Cas could say he loved him were all the power he had over the situation.

It was petty and he knew he would regret it when he was staring at his ceiling, not drunk enough to sleep but too drunk to get up and do something about it, trying to remember what it sounded like but not quite remembering. It had been so long since he had heard the words whispered into his skin and he felt like a rash was going to develop without it's soothing power.

He had just needed to convince himself that he wasn't helpless and that he had some sort of control. He was always waiting on Cas – to text back, to call, to visit. He never made any plans because there was always the thought that in the back of his mind. What if Cas came at the last minute? What if Meg decided to be alone and he could have two fucking nights where he didn't feel like he needed to be stone drunk just to sleep in his own sheets because they didn't smell enough like cinnamon?

When it didn't happen, he either filled it with the scent of someone else, or spread his scent on someone else's pillows, or got so drunk he half the time woke up in the bathroom leaning over the toilet. He didn't really like doing any of those things. He always washed his sheets as soon as he woke up because it didn't matter who it had been, they felt dirty and unclean and unready for Cas. He showered as soon as he got home from someone else's because he didn't want to do the same thing to his sheets. And sleeping over a toilet was not the most comfortable of positions, nor did it give him any sense of dignity.

Honestly, he should have known this would happen. Everything he had heard about Meg said she was impulsive and unable to stay at any one thing for too long. Cas would obviously have to be the responsible parent.

Maybe that was it, though. Maybe Dean was waiting and watching and hoping for Meg to get sick of Cas so he could finally have him to himself. It didn't matter if it seemed hopeless right now; Dean just had to believe that this wasn't forever. Maybe that was why he only made half-hearted attempts to purge himself of his love for the other man.

The bar was the perfect place to contemplate his inability to cut Cas out of his life. He knew because he was generally here three times a week, sometimes more. It didn't get him very far toward a solution, but he was comfortable here.

It was a little after one in the morning when he finally decided he was numb enough to go back to his empty house. The thought had brought him back to drinking the other two times he had thought he was ready. Now, though, he was resigned. At least with no one waiting for him he could be as drunk as he pleased when he stumbled in.

The bartender gave him a wary look but he turned a charming smile on him. He was more interested in the women in front of him anyway, so he just gave a shrug and went back to flirting. Dean made his way to the car, not bothered with how much he stumbled. He'd made it home in worse condition.

When he slid into his baby, he relaxed and patted her dash. There was nothing he could do to her to make her hate him or want to leave. She didn't even mind that it took him three tries to get the key in the ignition. The radio roared to life and he gave a laugh, because he really loved that song. "I love my whiskey straight, the only way you taste it. When I take that bottle down, it's good to be my friend." He might as well sit back and enjoy it before his ride home. He sang along to the words, refusing to make the connections he sometimes did with it. "I love the way you move, all the things that drive me crazy. What a way to spend my life, to wake up next to you. Can I take just a little more?"

em"You're my favorite addiction, I know. Of all the things I love, there's nothing quite like you."/em

* * *

Song was Whiskey by Royal Bliss.

Here's the important point. Does this really feel like an ending?

That_one_girl and I started this fic because I really like Anarbor and was obsessing over Passion for Publication, where this fic gets it's title, and because she said there wasn't enough angst in the fics she was finding. So, as your ever humble writer extraordinaire, I said "You want some fucking angst? I can give you fucking angst!"

However, as we (I) wrote and discussed and such, we discovered that we wanted different types of endings. So, does this really feel like an ending? Of course not, sillies. It's a cross roads. There will be two more stories in this series. One will have a happy ending (-cough- after a shitload more angst -cough-). Sorry, I seem to have developed a cough. That one is to be named Tempered. The other will not end well, and that's about as far as I'll go before I start tagging it. It will be called Letters to Cas.

So, it's like a choose your own adventure! Or you can be like me as a child and read them both! However, as a warning, that would probably make the sad one sadder. :[

I plan to update them alternately. Enjoy! I hope you guys come to the other fics and keep reading. I won't mind if I don't see you on both. That_one_girl won't either. Though, she may call you a little bitch.

[this fic was originally posted on AO3 by me (ketaminekendra) and a friend (That_one_girl). I don't think she has a profile and such here, but if she does, she'll find it eventually. Not sure if there's a handy series option like on AO3, but I'll do my best to make sure you can get to them. I still love you FFers.]


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